Seeing Red: a collection of drabbles
by RedWritingRebel
Summary: EXPANDED! Yes, that's right, it is no longer 'just one little drabble I wrote after reading notawordsmith's drabble-a-day challenge bonus round', I'm writing more drabbles! Nothing above 500 words, I promise.. . . . It wasn't new to him, seeing red. No, it happened all the time, the haze of anger glazing over everything and riddling away his control . . includes notes on N.I.U.
1. Seeing Red

**Disclaimer: Don't own, I just like to play with other people's toys.  
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**A/N: This is just a drabble I wrote after reading notawordsmith's drabble a day challenge bonus round (Which I can't find the courage or creativity to take on). Just for fun with no real purpose, I don't even think it's that good, especially the ending. Yeah, *nods* the ending sucks. But I tried and hope y'all can enjoy. A/N at the end for all fans of (N.I.U.) Nothing Is Unbreakable. Anyways, enjoy! or try to. . .  
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_**Seeing red**_

It wasn't new to him, seeing red. No, it happened all the time, the haze of anger glazing over everything and riddling away his control. Like an old friend; an old, jarring, unwelcome friend who Raphael couldn't wait to kick out the nearest door.

But he wasn't angry now—at least, he didn't think he was—which is why the young turtle blindly slumped against the alley's dirty brick wall and blinked hard. Trying to make sense of this phenomenon. The world swam with each heavy blink, but the color wouldn't leech from his vision.

It was everywhere, a growing puddle of crimson lapping over the asphalt and at his suddenly unsteady feet. His green feet. . . huh.

So he wasn't seeing red after all.

The cerise pool the turtle stared dazedly at was seeping from a street thug's body, bathing the filthy ground and tinging the air with the smell of death. A strange, bitter sweet smell that reminded him of the copper coins Mikey had dunked in chocolate as an April Fool's prank.

It touched his skin like a hot, wet kiss, and Raphael suddenly remembered shoving his sai through the man's unguarded throat. He remembered the bite of steel on his own flesh moments before committing the irreversible act.

Airiness overtook him and he sunk listlessly to the ground, watching more red drip—no pour from a jagged gash running across his wrist and up his elbow. The soft pelt of his blood striking the dank, unforgiving asphalt was dimly amusing and through the thin shadows he smiled like a Cheshire cat.

Thirteen year old Raphael just took his first kill. . . and he wouldn't even live to regret it.

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^_^ thanks for reading! and feel free to rant, rave, or review. I welcome criticism and will thank you for it :D**  
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**A/N for readers of Nothing is Unbreakable: I am working on the next chapter, but life and the turtle known as Mikey are tripping me up. So I just thought I'd let you know that I have an update notice in my profile and a new poll concerning the fic. It'd be awesome if y'all could hop over and vote on it.  
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**Oh, and any Mike fans mind passing along some tips for how to write for him? I'd be forever grateful :)  
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**Cheers, your red writing rebel.  
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	2. Reflection

**Disclaimer: Oh, for the love of all things chocolate! No, I don't own them.**

**A/N: Lol ^_^ Hello again. Lookie at what I did. Expanded it! Got bit by two little plot bunnies and now they're hopping around my head, popping out more bunnies.**

**Ha ha. That's right, I am now in the drabble writing business. I'm gonna try to do at _least_ two a week. Sounds doable right? Well I think it sounds crazy! You know what else is crazy? The fact that I just became a beta reader! *Smack head* yep, legally insane now. But hey, its fun. I promise!  
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**So here is my little drabble, hope y'all can enjoy it!**

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_Reflection_

His children were growing up; their lanky bodies filling out with thick muscles and some much needed weight. Splinter knew this was a good thing. His boys would need their strength to last through the coming winter.

They would also need supplies. . . Which is why the lair was so silent now.

The aged rat shifted among his low burning candles, restless in his meditation as he waited with peeled ears for the voices of his rowdy boys to drift in from the outer tunnels. Surely it wouldn't be long now.

The Subway roared by overhead, rattling the rusted pipes and shaking the brown cloth that gifted him a small amount of privacy. A flame flickered out, the dying reflection caught in haunted black eyes. Even when his boys weren't home, he could find no peace. Not simply from the distractions of the outside world, but from the memories that plagued his mind.

Memories of his master; of his old life.

Memories of his children, sick or injured or missing.

He could remember every day rotten apples had been the only food he could provide. Even days where he had to watch four pairs of large, young eyes gazing hungrily at him, innocently asking for the furry father to still the empty pangs in their guts. All because he couldn't place food on the table that night.

So many long nights were spent awake, staring at a dripping ceiling and wondering if tomorrow would be better. Wondering if the cold might take something irreplaceable from him before the sun could warm the outer tunnels. Or if starvation would be the inevitable killer. Wondering, always wondering. For nothing was ever certain.

Master Splinter could get lost in his reflection.

He could drown in the black depth of pooling regrets; blind himself with all the unshed tears that sloshed in his lungs and behind his eyes; deafen himself with the sobs bobbing in his throat.  
But he wouldn't. For no matter the mistakes he made, no matter the things he lost, no matter the pain he has had to endure, he could always find comfort in the thought of his boys.

Their voices drifted in now, high and loud and echoing off the walls.

Splinter smiled, shaking his head to himself.

He might have rescued them, those thirteen long years ago, but they have saved him every day since.

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**Thanks for reading! Hope y'all enjoyed and feel free to leave a review. I appreciate criticism just as much as I appreciate praise. ^_^  
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**A/N for any readers of Nothing Is Unbreakable: I want to keep y'all posted on what is going on, so expect a note at the end of every one of these things. Right now I'm about half way through chapter 4, and am really hoping I can finish it by tonight. If not, then no later than Monday. And if not then. . . well, if I don't have the freaking thing up by then, you can figuratively kick my butt. Trust me, I'll be kicking it. I want to post it!**

**Seriously, I'm dying to put it up. Cause the chapter after that is going to be FUN. *Wicked smile*  
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**Cheers, your Red Writing Rebel.  
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	3. Lost and Found

**Disclaimer: I'm afraid that dream will never come true...  
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**A/N: Jeez, I'm getting behind on this already? I actually totally forgot about updating it until today, lol. Anyways, a little tale comes with this drabble, read at your own risk:  
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**This plot bunny, the cutest and most blood thirsty I've ever seen, was gnawing at my heels. What did I do? Well, what any crazy person would do of course! I reached down and grabbed it. Ha ha... big mistake. As soon as I had a firm hold of it, thinking about how great of friends we were going to be, it dug its teeth into my hand and shot off! Dragging me up rocky hills, down steep cliffs, through cold mud and puddles.  
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**I was at its utter mercy, at every twist and turn completely helpless. How I got away, I'll never know. But now, here I am, bumped and bruised and thoroughly humiliated, but all the better for it.  
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**And the bunny... is probably off with another of its kind, breeding and raising future monsters to torture me. The destruction left by it can be seen below... *grins* Hope y'all like it!  
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**Don't look at me like that, you know I'm the gustiest rambler that ever lived, ha ha, and proud of it. ^_^  
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**Word count: 628 (yes, looks like I broke my promise. This one just climbed over that 500 word mark. . . blame the bunny, I am.)  
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_Lost and Found_

The dark tunnel stretched out before the small turtle, as long and twisted as a snake's belly, and just as dark. It smelled of feces and death; so crude that the child had to press a quaking hand to his snout.

Suddenly, Raphael wished he had never watched that Animal channel with Donatello, or stepped foot outside his home unsupervised. He took a quick look around, and for the hundredth time found nothing but the same face of darkness that sneered in front of him. The dank air hung on his mask and stuffed itself into his lungs.

Just how far from the lair were they?

Yes, _they._..

An emerald green hand adjusted its hold on his younger brother's side, fingers gripping a shell that seemed all too empty at the moment. He slipped on something slick and slimy, stumbling in his effort to not hurt his brother worse than he already was, or take a dive in the rancid water nearby.

Sucking in a breath, little Raph removed his dearly needed hand from his mouth and clung to the still wrist draped around his shoulder. Shoving up from his buckled knee, the eight year old hothead searched for his voice.

"Ya need ta wake up, Mikey." he rasped, as if speaking too loud would shatter the black path they now traveled.

Tired and stubborn tears prickled behind amber eyes when he got no answer. And of all the things to do, the red-clad child sank against a slimy wall and set his semi-unconscious brother in his lap, the only real thought was of how truly unfair life was.

This little adventure started as a receiver mission of Mike's lost toy, which he swore while begging his brother to help him find it was 'just around the corner'. Now the two were lost in a nightmare, and he was the one left in the dank dark. Afraid and shivering in the cold. All with his boneheaded goof ball of a brother to thank and drag along.

Once again the child stroked his eyes against the black canvas. Heart sinking further. A flashlight would be nice, at least then he could see. But that had been dropped into the swirling sewer water along with Michaelangelo hours ago.

Raphael rocked his legs beneath his little brother's head, sniffled once to swallow back the gathering tears, and pulled a plastic action figure from his belt. It was hard under his numbing fingers. Blindly, he traced the many curves and points that made up the body of the hero with indifference. The dimples of eyes and a mouth sparked anger within the young child, something he was very use to by now, and with a twist the head snapped off, echoing the hapless death of one of Mikey's favorite toys throughout the tunnels.

Lost and found... and now broken.

Just like he and his brother were.

Raphael wasn't much of a crier—hadn't been for years; he wasn't much for fear; and he surely wasn't one to back away from an adventure. But now, he found all of that being thrown back in his face. Fear slithered under his skin with the burn of a fever; tears tattered down his cheeks; and the mere thought of exploring the unknown curled a ball of cotton in his ears and across his tongue.

Mike barely breathed in his arms, heart slowing within his chest, he was clammy, growing colder with each passing minute and freezing a chunk of ice around Raphael's own heart. If Leo were here, he could lead them out of this disaster, Donnie could help the injured turtle, Splinter could do _anything._ But Raphael... 'the turtle of action', couldn't even pick himself back up from the icy brick.

As time stretched on, the silence shattered to the sobs of the boy bouncing through the sewers.

Lost... and never to be found.

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**Yeah, not the best, but... Thanks so much for reading! ^_^**

**A/N for readers of NIU: Firstly, THANK YOU! NIU has reached _over_ 50 reviews; that's incredible. Y'all are just beyond awesome and a huge motivation for me. Ha ha, my new fix for writer's block is to go through all of y'all's kind words again, grinning like an idiot the whole time. ^_^**

**As for the next chapter, it's coming along nicely! As long as I didn't just jinx myself, I should have no problem posting it within the two week time line. Wish me luck anyways.  
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**Cheers! your red writing rebel.  
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	4. Midnight

**Disclaimer: Hmm... running out of clever ways of saying, "I don't own them!"... Nor do I make a profit.  
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**A/N: 'ello, 'ello, 'ello, what's all this then? *smirks* A new cover? ****Yep! ^_^ TheThirdAetas is to thank for that. Now before you continue, take a good long look at it, cause it's pretty cool; and she is amazing! Y'all should read her work ;)  
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**So, this little drabble ranks up there with _Reflection_ as one of my favorites. Though, it took me _all_ week to write and was being a little mean towards the end there. I hope you enjoy! ^_^ and thanks so much for all the kind reviews so far. Y'all are inspiring to me.  
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**(UPDATED a/n: *blanches* garh, I forgot to mention that in this drabble, I'm picturing this certain turtle as no older than nine, no younger than seven. -_-' What can I say? It's late here_;_ it's been a long week and I'm still gonna stubbornly stay up to write more. Bleh, I'm crazy.)  
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_Word count: 637 (*cringes* ooooh, I broke my promise again. As much as I hate to do that, sometimes it can't be avoided. I'm sure y'all don't mind :D)_

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_Midnight_

Fear found itself trapped within folds of fabric. Suffocated and silenced behind a soft wall. Its escape foiled, pulled back by a chain of subconscious defiance.  
Lips quivered with the hopelessness, with the hindrance that kept Fear sealed inside a cell. A cell whose walls were clawed, desecrated, marked with the craze of a prisoner too long kept.

A breath, slow and shallow, shuddered out between locked teeth. The aging warden wouldn't allow Fear's escape. It was a dangerous thing; a _killer._

Wetness slid down a temple, beneath a brow, under screwed shut eyes. The enraged captive rattled his bars again, the resounding pangs of rusty metal in wearing hollows and a maniac laugh whirling out in the stale air as a weak whine.

Fear was strong tonight. Fear was determined.

Panting painted the air behind latched lids, blurring the images of an all too-real nightmare.

_What if it_ is_ real?_ Fear taunted.

A hammock swung to a restless young soul, raking up nausea and pitching dangerously close to toppling its lone occupant.

_Not really alone... you know that, right? I'm here._

Panic surged, flipping the unstable bed on its head and the child to the floor. Damp blankets entangled flaring arms and legs like chains, locking him to the ground and in a world of shadows.

When, at last, the child's head did surface, it was to the green glow of a shotty clock flashing just past midnight.

_Midnight._

The hour of hell. No, that wasn't right. It was the _beginning_ of hell.

Knees pulled into a heaving chest, hugged close by trembling palms and elbows. And he could _feel_ it. All around him, thick and heavy and riding on the quiet air.

Fear's rumbling laugh. Well, maybe it wasn't rumbling, it was more akin, perhaps, to nails racking over a chalk board.

Tears stung the corners of amber eyes, blurring the shadowy darkness with waves of green tides. A sob shuddered up his sore throat, and for a moment all else fell silent to the wonderment of what made it so. Had he screamed? Had he slipped up and allowed. . .

No. He wouldn't be alone now if he had.

Nails dug into an emerald palm, realization jangling keys.

_What if it_ is_ real?_ Echoed back.

And with it, the child rose, dropping the blanket as he made his halting track towards the door. The handle was slick beneath his fingers; the hinges rusty and loud; the quiet on the other side... enough to freeze his young heart in his chest.

Feet dragged against the brick floor, passing sealed doors and never breaking stride long enough to hear the steady breaths that filled the void within. It wasn't until he was down the narrow way and ducking to draw back an old brown cloth that his body dared stop.

Behind the curtain the shadows moved, a bed laid empty, and soft steps stirred the air. "Raphael?" a rough breath shook out and he found that he couldn't even nod in affirmation. Relief rolled over him.

"My son, what are doing out of bed?" A furry paw took his shoulder and he just stared ahead. That is, until another paw caught his chin. "Your fever has worsen. Come, lay down. I'll make you some herbal tea."

But instead of following his father's words, Raphael lurched forwards and clasped his quivering hands behind his father's back.

Fear blanched, drawing back into its hole.

Raphael couldn't be afraid; couldn't be if he was going to be the protector of his family, of his brothers. He fought Fear at every corner; battled with emotions that built the killer up, put up a front of absolute bravery.

But sometimes, even he needed his father's embrace to still the monster that shook its cage.

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_Thanks so much for reading! ^_^_

**A/N for NIU readers: It's going good! I'm confident that I can finish the many rewrites before next Saturday, which, I might point out, is on track for when I said I'd update. Yay!  
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**Cheers! your Red Writing Rebel.  
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